


Lost in Space

by Coralie (Belladonna89)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gen, Keith is on the Kerberos Mission, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Quintessence sensitivity, Sentient Voltron Lions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-02 02:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16296710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belladonna89/pseuds/Coralie
Summary: For all these dusty star-maps, all these silent rebellions, all these ancient mind games, who would have guessed that one single out-of-place knife could change the fate of all the known universe?





	1. Missing in Action, pt.1

**COME SEE: MOMENTOUS LAUNCH OF FIRST MISSION TO KERBEROS SET FOR THE FOURTH OF AUGUST.**

Head Staff Writer, The International Space Magazine.

 

            The first ever mission the Kerberos, a moon of Pluto, is to be launched this August from the Galaxy Garrison base in Prescott, Arizona. Aboard the mission are the renowned Samuel J. Holt, record-breaking pilot Takashi Shirogane, and prodigies Keith Kogane and Matthew Holt . Once out of orbit, these men will on course to be the first human beings to exit the inner solar system. Complimenting this amazing first for mankind, accommodations are being made for the public to view the moment of the launch. Tickets to the event are already selling out in most venues, so be sure to get yours as soon as possible!

* * *

 

**Mission Name:**

Hades-35

**Status:**

Failed; Assumed pilot error.

**Objective:**

Obtain (13) ice core samples from Plutonian moon, Kerberos, for research at the Galaxy Garrison Lab 41NRY. Designated spacecraft: HKE-317. Send and Return flights projected to take 8 months total.

**Assigned Personnel:**

Col. Samuel J. Holt, _Mission Commander_

Maj. Takashi Shirogane, _Lead Pilot_

Capt. Matthew N. Holt, _Assist. Science Officer_

Lt. Keith Y. Kogane, _Co-Pilot_

* * *

 

**Status Report:**

1367-3BXV | Dp.93,576-P.13-Q.13-V.1500

{ _Transcribed via Capt. Torvek_ }

Within a varga of this report (4) undiscovered sentients where discovered within the outer rim of System Sol-3XR, Galaxy-7KD4. They were found mining a planet’s moon with the aid of pre-quintessence spacecraft. Upon further analysis of the captured specimens, they appear to hold a grasp of language and bear a curious physical resemblance to the extinct race of Alteans. We request access to transfer prisoners to a science facility in the nearby Rebulon Quadrant for further study.

 

* * *

 

 

**FOUR MEN ASSUMED DEAD. KERBEROS MISSION A FAILURE.**

Head Staff Writer, International Space Magazine.

 

                Funerals are being scheduled for three weeks from now for the lost astronauts assigned to the Kerberos Mission. While further details have not been released yet, the Garrison maintains that the contact was lost due to pilot error…

 

* * *

 

 

**Re: Status Report:**

5993-82UY | Dp.93,576-P.13-Q.13-V.2300

{ _Transcribed via Col. Nahthek_ }

Request granted. Your crew has been rerouted to the Xeruliumn Science Station, Rebulon-34. A replacement will be sent shortly to continue scouting System Sol-3XR for intelligent life. May your findings bring glory to the empire.


	2. Missing in Action, pt.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deca-Pheob = Year  
> Pheob = Month  
> Spicolian Movement = Week  
> Quintant = Day  
> Varga = Hour  
> Dobash = Minute  
> Tick = Second

            It had only been a quintant since the discovery of the sentients and Captain Torvek was already developing a massive headache. It had been one thing to stew over the reroute message without audience, another thing entirely to have to grit his teeth during the in-person meeting with the captain of the new crew. _Rerouted!_ Psht! The highest decorated scouting fleet in their quadrant, replaced by milk-teethed _cubs_. It set his scales on edge. He shoved his way through another dark, cold corridor, bowling over anyone too dumb to get out of his way. Slowly, the purple lights faded into greens and yellows, and the gunmetal was replaced with silvery, reinforced alloys. The brig. The guards stationed at the heavy door struck a proper salute, “Vrepit Sa, Captain!” They greeted. Torvek jerked his head up. “Op’n the door, ye right fools!” He snarled. A snappy movement from them, and the whir of unbolting doors. Some things, at least, were still right with the world Torvek mused. _“It’s only a light sedative,”_ His Lead medic had said, _“just enough to last them the trip.”_ And yet here they were. An entire bloody varga of sitting in the Science Station’s docking bay, waiting for the damn insects to wake. He swore to all the stars in the known universe that _if that thrice-be damned doctor—_ A thunderous cough echo off of the distant cell’s walls. Torvek craned his head and saw from out of the corner of his eye, the would-be specimens were finally stirring. “About time! You, comm Commander Varen!” Torvek ordered, jabbing a clawed finger in the guards’ general direction. Torvek grinned nastily, “Tell ‘er, ‘er vermin are finally up.”

* * *

 

            Keith’s head pounded. It was cold. Colder than he thought it’d be whe….where.. _Wherever they were?_ He suddenly realized he was being dragged across a hard floor, and his eyes shot up. The lights here were _blindingly_ white. Unintelligible words slipped past his ears and he jerked his head around trying to see. Vaulted metal pillars, what looked like glowing…walls? It felt like he stepped into a sci-fi movie, and not a happy on either. Just as his eyes were adjusting to the harsh light, Keith was yanked up by the back of his neck. “Hey, Hey! What’s—?!” A purple hand clapped over his mouth. “Keith?” He strained to look over, and with a muffled yelp, saw Shiro in a similar predicament. Eyes widening, he twisted in the other direction. Thank goodness, there were Matt and Commander Holt. _At least we’re together_ , he thought grimly. After more painful minutes of being hoisted down progressively dimmer and dimmer corridors, their captors finally stopped. It wasn’t a reprieve for too long though. Soon enough, the door in front of them was opened, leading into a room _even brighter_ than the first. The aliens tossed them in, and behind the door thundered closed. “Gah!” Mr. Holt wheezed, trying valiantly to catch his breath with a bruised windpipe. Shiro rolled off of Matt and helped the elder Holt to his feet. The younger sat up slowly, groaning in pain, “Where are we?” Keith turned, something sarcastic on the tip of his tongue back and froze.

“ _You_ are in the Xeruliumn Science Station, smallest one.” There, giving Matt the most condescending smile possible, was a tall, blue, feathered _and_ furred woman. Keith was very suddenly feeling very, very, out of his depth, now that this was finally sinking in. The woman stood behind a thick wall of fogged up glass and tapped away at a holographic screen to her right.

Commander Holt wet his lips anxiously, “Might I ask why you’ve brought us here?” She glanced at him vacantly, then pressed another button on her panel. The lights dimmed slightly. Something didn’t feel right. “State the name of your species.” Commander tried to stand a little straighter. “I, uh, we would be Humans,” He stammered. “And-and you would be, Miss..?” The woman behind the glass typed furiously, ignoring him. On their side of the glass, a flickering hologram appeared, a map of their solar system. “State your planet of origin.” She commanded. Keith grabbed Mr. Holt’s arm before he could get up, suddenly nauseous. He stood up slowly and defiantly, pushing past his comrades. Keith glared into the glass, “ _No_.” shuffling feet whispered behind him. The woman looked taken aback.

“Who the _hell_ are you?” Keith snapped, practically leaning into the divider. He felt more than nauseous now, a pool of dread and anger and confusion eating away at his belly. ‘ _I’m not safe here.’_ It seemed to whisper, ‘ _Run!’_ It hissed. The world spun around him. His head was pounding. He whispered a, “Why are we here?” and then, for a moment, he was deaf to the world. For a moment, he saw someone standing behind the woman, all long robes. Keith was going to be sick and he didn’t know why. The robes came closer and Keith reeled backwards, Shiro catching him before he could go too far. The figure touched the parting glass, and from then on the divider might as well have been made of poison. He met the figure’s eyes; He knew it for certain, though the mask concealed its face. **“FACINATING…”** _It_ was in his mind too. Shiro caught his limp body, before it could hit the floor.

 

            When Keith came back around, they were in a different cell entirely, back in the first hallway. Turns out the energy walls were more soundproof doors than anything else. _At least_ , Matt thought wearily, _we have beds to sleep on_. From then on, their life folded into a neat routine. Every five hours a meal came through the opaque doorway. Every ten, one of them was taken back to the white room. None of them ever saw the strange blue woman there again. The same couldn’t be said for Robes-and-Mask. Instead, it was accompanied by a rotation of at least five other aliens, each a different shade of violet. Sometimes they were put to a physical task. Sometimes they were questioned. Within what Matt figured to be two hours, they were returned to the blank white cell. By the second week, the repetition started to dig in. That’s when the conversations started to pitter out. Silence filled in for it. Soon, they lost track of any sense of time. Days were weeks and weeks were seconds, as if they had failed a madness check. Their lives were marked by the shift in their guards, the openings of the crackling door. It was then, when Matt heard the thump. Then two. _Then three_. He shot to his feet, scrambling frantically for the source. _Behind the bed!_ He thought, exhilarated. “Shiro!” Matt shouted, turning to throttle him, “Shiro, Shiro help me!” With a disgruntled yell, said Shiro shoved Matt away.

“ _Jeezus_ , what is the _matter_ with you?!” The pilot cried, trying to get up but stumbling backwards. “ _The bed!_ ” Matt hollered, pulled at the frame in vain, “Help me move it!” Shiro paused as the banging from behind said object started up again, this time loud enough to wake even Keith up.“Wha?” he mumbled, letting the excited Matt push him right off the mattress with a thud. Together, Shiro and him ripped the entire frame off of its bolts in the wall. _There it was_. Matt grinned widely at the revealed ventalation, bending over to tear at it, leaving bloody fingerprints. Whatever was in the shaft gave a startle shout, and the sound of shuffling against metal echoed from out of the vent. Matt stared at the bolted in vent in a daze, not feeling the pain in his hands. He stared through the slats in the vent cover, searched for whatever had been in there but… _It was empty for miles._ Matt looked into the vents with despair, futilely trying to wish his hallucination into existence. It wasn’t until a groggy Keith started pushing the bed back that he finally snapped out of his trance. Matt sank back onto the bed and Shiro sat next to him, giving his shoulder a squeezed. “We need to get out of here.” Matt whispered. His hands were shaking. His voice was shaking. His soul was shaking, and as he look at his fellow man around him, he knew. They wouldn’t last like this for much longer.

 

            It didn’t last like that for much longer. As what the crew could only assume was another hour of sitting in their cell, a siren sounded and a loud electric sound swooshed passed them. The cell door was open. Open, for the guards now pulling, dragging them out of their prison.

* * *

 

            Commander Varen wasn’t having a good pheob at all. Take these Sentients, Nahthek said, it’ll be easy for you to figure out how they work, he said. Yet here she was, a high-class science officer, slaving away at an old prototype translator. For a reason her technicians couldn’t yet parse out every other thing these…’Humans’ said came out as unintelligible garbage. Results of physical tests ran just as well as any other, on the surface. Until they tried stress test. They had tried comparisons with nearly all recorded sentient species, Alteans especially, but taken on a whole, something in their physiology was just— _off_ , the averages of their inner workings didn’t add up, and _without proper study!!_ …. _Ugh._ It was only 5 vargas into the quintant and Varen already sported a headache and was wringing her hands. She was already on poor terms with the head of her division. A swish of a door opening caught her attention. “You better have good news, Sergeant.” She said without turning around.

The pale medic behind her cleared his throat softly, “You may want to see this, Commander.” Varen spun around sharply, heart pounding “ _What’s happened._ ” She hissed. Holding out a medpad for her to read, the medic— _Ulaz,_ she belatedly remembered—replied,” One of the new subjects has fallen ill.” The medpad was cold and heavy in Varen’s hand as she scanned the report.

                        **[Subject: Prisoner 337-59Q**

**_ Dp.93,577-P.01-Q.04-V.0435_ **

**Status: High fever, Delirium, Long Lapses of Consciousness…]**

It was a torturously long moment until Varen felt she could speak without screaming curses. “How long,” she hissed shakily, “ _Has he been like this?!_ ” She whipped her head to meet Ulaz’s eyes with a burning glare. He was unperturbed, “It was assumed he had been sleeping, until sensors in their holding cell detected traces of the Olkarian Plague.” Varen took in a deep breath, very, very,  _s l o w l y_. _She could be calm about this_ , she thought. _She needed to be_. Another breath. “Has the subject been detained in a quarantine area already?”

“Yes Commander.”

“And you’ve _thoroughly_ scanned the others for infection?”

“Of course, Commander.” Varen tightened her grip on the medpad and grit her teeth, “Right then. Go lead a team to scan all detained belongings for the Flu, the Human’s especially. I’ll take care of the subjects myself.” As they spoke, they exited the Commander’s Office and took different turns down the same, dimly lit, gunmetal hallway. A shadow followed Varen closely behind.

“You should let me deal with them.” It grumbled, rearranging its robes. Varen shot it a look, “ _You_ don’t run this station, Zanthe.”

"Yes, but!” Varen stopped suddenly, feathers ruffled and voice cold.

“These are _my_ subjects, and unless _I_ clear you, neither you _nor_ your cronies get to lay a single claw on them. Do you hear me?” The figure scoffed and turned. She narrowed her eyes, following the receding robes as it left down a maintenance passage.

* * *

 

            Apparently, they were in quarantine. Apparently, as he surveyed the folks around him, _this_ is also what the universe at large looked like. Keith didn’t know what disappointed him more, the fact that they didn’t resemble Shiro’s Star Trek collection, or the fact that Matt’s more questionable furry friends would be delighted. Personally, Keith wished he wasn’t here to know the difference.

 It might be ten people altogether, _maybe_ fifteen, but the claustrophobic layout of the quarantine made it hard to tell. Ever since the guards shut the barricaded white doors they had all been staring at the four of them. Keith pressed closer to Shiro. He and Matt were staring back at them. Commander Holt was gone. Keith wondered where. Wondered how Matt felt. The aliens shifted where they sat on the bench, some of them looking impatient. A frog-like alien snapped its head around with an apparent question, towards a larger, teal feathered alien. That’s when the lights went out. The whole quarantine shuddered, and vents slammed shut. Keith heard Shiro inhale sharply. Under a dim emergency light, the big alien took out a small, silver device. It sprang to life like an old radio, hissing and sputtering.

It flipped a switch and smile gently, “Greetings. I apologize for the circumstances but we,” The alien gestured to the prisoners around her, “thought it might be best to introduce ourselves without prying eyes. I am Te-osh, from planet Kythra. I was taken from my planet and sent _here_ so that the scientists could study my genetic defects. Here, would be a remote galra science station, and we would be your fellow inhabitants.”

The frogish alien hopped off the bench and cleared his throat, “and as your fellow station-mates, _*croak*_ , we thought it might be best to give you a good ‘ole look around. Y’know?” Keith watching in wonder as the alien latched sticky fingers onto the center-most floor plate with a squelch and lifted it right off the floor. He gave the dumbfounded humans a wide grin.

“Wait!” Shiro interjected, “What about Sam? They took him before we got here and—” Te-osh held up a hand for silence. “We only have a few minutes before the major backup systems get back online, including the microphone tapped into this room. We have a relay that can cover our tracks, but we can’t be in this room while it plays.” While she spoke, the other prisoners filed past her, disappearing passed the removed plate. Te-osh moved for them to follow her and said no more.

* * *

 

            Under the plating was an old rope, knotted off for grip. Frogger, as Shiro dubbed him, closed the long downwards passage behind them. It took a solid three minutes just to reach the end of the rope, and their destination. From what the pilot could tell, this _used_ to be an abandoned maintenance shaft. Now? The place was bustling with various aliens wandering the halls, crude strings of colored light wound around the piping, casting an oddly festive feel. “We smuggle prisoners down here when we can, _*croak*_.” Frogger leap off from the rope, landing behind Matt, whom he hobbled past. “The main room’s this way, y’know?” Frogger waved an arm forward.

“No. No we don’t know.” Keith answered dryly. His eyes darted around nervously though his face was blank. Shiro gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.“So,” Matt started, “What _is_ all of this? And—and where’s my dad?” He looked to Te-osh expectantly.

She waved them forward into the corridor, “This is how we all keep in touch. The station has a strict rule against prisoner interaction, so getting together is hard. That’s why we planted a strain of Olkarion Flu into your cell. This ‘Sam’, your father I presume, will be treated shortly, do not worry.” The corridor began to widen, into a far large hub, draped in sheets of stained and woven clothe. Shabby almost-bean-bags littered the room, taken up by at least thirty different people. Frogger, who had been leading the pack down the hall, grabbed up a piece of pipe from the floor and struck a nearby sheet of metal. It rang loud, and echoed into the labyrinth of pipework passages that the room branched off into.

“Fellow prisoners!” Frogger bellowed, “Meet our newest members!” Te-osh ushered them into the middle of the room kindly, whispering, “Just start off with your names, the rest will come later.” The other aliens who had been in the cell with them walked in through a different hall, bringing what Shiro guessed to be the rest of their little shanty village. They stared at them curiously, mumbling among themselves. The teenagers next to him looked more than a little nervous, though Keith stared them back, almost defiantly. Frogger cleared his throat impatiently gesturing at the humans with his pipe.

“uh, Hello,” Te-osh held the— _translator?_ — closer to him. “My name is Shiro… This would be Matt—” who waved slightly, “—and Keith” who crossed his arms. “We’re space explorers from a planet called Earth.” Shiro looked up at Te-osh who waved him on with vigor. “Uh, we were extracting ice from a distance moon in our solar system when we got, well, abducted. Not exactly the friendliest of first contacts, I think” Shiro joked. A few in the back of the room gasped, and Te-osh raised what might had been her eyebrow.

“First Contact!” Frogger barked in surprise, “No wonder you lot are in here, _*croak*_! We’ll just have to open up a waypoint from your-” Someone, lean and sharkish, leaning on the seating was about to ask a question when the room shuddered unexpectedly.

“The systems!” Te-osh gasped, “We lost track of time, hurry!” She grabbed the three of them in her long arms, rushing passed the seated villagers with the others hot on her heels. Frogger sprung ahead off them in panic. “We’ll have to throw them up quickly!” He croaked, practically flying up the rope. Shiro stumbled to his feet and hoisted Keith up by the back of his shirt, tossing him up at the rope. Thanking the heavens above that their Garrison training was still intact, he tossed Matt after him. The three of them managed to get back to the still-dark cell in half the time it took them to descend. The others scurried up the rope, Frogger slammed the plating back in place, and they all threw themselves back into their previous seats. Just. In. Time. Right as Frogger wiggled into place, the white door slid open, revealing a pale Medic.

* * *

 

**_Half an Hour ago:_ **

            Varen ran back and forth across the main observation room, shouting orders to scurrying operators. Her claws clicked away at ten different holoscreens at once, each of them displaying a different error messages, the magenta lights flickering overhead. “ _Damn it!”_ She hissed in pain as electricity arced off the information terminal to her left, smoking yet another set of hard-earned data. Someone, somewhere, had had the bright idea of throwing the capacity limiters off the main power unit, like that _wouldn’t_ overload half the damn station!“Lieutenant, remove the archives from the computer units! Sergeant Korav, contact engineering, tell them to pull us off the grid!”

Varen swiveled on her heel pushing passed the hurrying attendees towards the med room where P337-59Q was being held. She threw open the vault doors with one hand and flicked on a light with another. Surveying the room, the puny thing was half out of his bed, barely conscious. As disgustly fleshy as it was, she hoisted him over her shoulder, pulling him out of the room before emergency protocol flushed auxiliary rooms of unnecessary gasses. Rushing to meet her, another sergeant fixed an oxygen mask to the human’s face. The ventilation hissed, and the room felt lighter. Assorted vial and medications were shoved off of the nearest counter space to make room for P337-59Q. A staticky crackle echoed on the overhead announcement system, as Torvek of all people came over the speakers.

“ _’ORRY COMMANDER, THE ENGINEERS ARE A TAD BUSY. THEY SAY WE’LL BE OUT FER ‘BOUT HALF A VARGA ‘TIL THE SYSTEM REBOOT’S OV’R. SAYS WE’RE OUT IN FIVE D’BASHES_.”

Varen tensed her claws and pinched out a stressed sigh. She snapped around and motioned towards the guards standing at the door, “You know what to do, make the rounds.” They nodded in unison and spun on heel out of the room and into the murky dark hallway, several basic sentries following behind them.

* * *

 

 

**_Present Time:_ **

            Keith was somewhere between confused, somewhere between wary, and very, very, startled. Ever since he’d made the acquaintance of the masked figure, he’d felt the dread pulsating everywhere, under the floors, in the walls, _the energy doors especially_. It had been so strong in the hideout that he had to grit his teeth so hard they hurt, just to keep from retching. The echoes of it still had his head spinning, and the stark light pouring out of the open door wasn’t helping. Keith closed his eyes.

“I just need…”

“…identify who’s…”

Shuffling feet and snippets of conversation twisted around his skull. The artificial light got closer, piercing his closed eyelids. A hologram screen of sorts as being held towards his face. Or rather, being held out towards the humans in general.

“Press the item in question if it is yours.”

The medic waited. Keith didn’t move. ‘ _Wait…’_ the world straighten out for a moment, and Keith’s ears felt hot. Everyone else had selected their belongings. Shaking, Keith tapped the remaining squares on the screen, lingering on the image of his blade.The hologram was pulled back into the medic’s hands and Shiro put a hand on Keith arm, “Are you alright?” he whispered. Keith shook his head. The medic took note, and left. The guards at the door bolted it behind him.Keith curled up in his seat and just _b r e a t h e d_.

 

           It took about two more minutes for the blinding lights to turn back on, fifteen until an approximation of small talk started to float around in the quarantine. Thirty-five until Keith head finally felt normal. When he finally felt well enough to straighten out of his ball, he found that Te-osh was watching him with some concern. The teal-ish alien—Kythrian?— leaned out of her seat by the left wall.“On my home planet, I was a doctor.” Her voice was soft and gentle, “ Is there any way that I can help you?”

Keith took a deep, steadying breath. “No,” he muttered, “I’m okay…” Matt reached over to give him a friendly punch on the arm, “He’s made of tougher stuff than that.” He announced cheerfully. Te-osh leaned back with a sigh. For a few more minutes, Matt managed to strike up a friendly conversation about whether or not aliens had video games in space, and if they were any good. To his immediate left, Shiro and the frog were discussing something about climates and planetary orbits. Keith half listened to both and barely understood either. Instead, his attention was mostly turned inward, where the dread felt… different. Pulling. Calling. When he closed his eyes again, the holoscreen was behind them. His knife was behind them. He knew, suddenly, that he _needed_ to have his knife.

* * *

 

 

            Varen peered past her medpad and at her subject. It had survive the transition between rooms well enough, though it still hacked and weezed from time to time. From a quick overview of the virus’s stages, it would seem that the human would be over the illness in a single spicolian movement. She opened up a tab on her screen for notes and typed, **[Record OF+ recovery; possible species trait. Study further.]** She tapped her claws along the edge of the medpad thoughtfully. The near silence was doing wonders for both her mood and mind, only the quiet shuffling of a droid in the back of the room to interrupt her.

_‘Now,’_ she thought, _‘I might be able to get things done.’_ Varen turned to grab a database of immune systems from the side wall but stopped, tapping her metal boot on the cold floor. She tapped her comm and called Ulaz instead. “Major, report.” Static clicked and pooped on her end for several tics.

“Reporting Commander. Belongings were searched and scanned... No trace of the Flu was found, Ma’am.” Oddly hesitant.

“Is that all you found, Major?” Varen pushed.

“Yes Commander, that was all.”

A frown pulled at her lips. “Very well Major. Report to Medical Lab 397K.” “Will do. Vrepit Sa, Commander.”

“Vrepit Sa.” She echoed. The comm cut out with a click, and Varen narrowed her eyes.

 

            Ten dobashes and the lab’s doors slid open. Ulaz entered the room and saluted respectfully. Varen waved a clawed hand at his formalities, “At ease, Major. Surveillance is down in this room.” The pale medic tensed up, eyeing the human on the medicine counter with mild concern.

“Excuse me Ma’am, I’m not sure what you w—“Varen advanced towards him, deceptively calm if it weren’t for the feathers spiked up at her nape.

“What did you _really_ find?” She accused. Ulaz shifted in place, eyes carefully affixed to the floor, shoulders slumped. “My apologies, Commander. I didn’t know who had been listening, and wouldn’t want to offend.” Varen’s knuckle were turning white against her uniform, as she buried them into a crossing of her arms. “ _Who._ ” She was losing patience with this whole damn staion. Deca-pheobs of running this run-down and underfunded facility and she was _still_ being underminded. Ulaz took a breath, and met her eyes.

“While I was verifying the ownership of the subject’s belongings, one of the subjects scan abnormally high traces of distilled quintessence. I suspect the druid has been tampering with the group without permissions, and bribing the guards to keep quiet, Ma’am.”

”That _thrice-be-damned_ , son of a _Taujeerian Haxaaw_ — _!!“_

Varen balled her fist tight enough to dig into her skin, flashing a double row of fangs in anger. Her knuckles slammed into the gunmetal wall, splitting open wide. Ulaz shifted his feet, unaffected.

“Should I separate the effected human for quintessence poisoning treatment, Commander?”

Varen sucked in a breath, and nodded slowly. She pulled something out of a back pocket and handed it to Ulaz. “Take a sentry droid with you. I can’t just get rid of the damned druid, but that doesn’t mean he can get away with this.” She snapped her fingers towards the door, motioning for Ulaz to leave. She tapped her comms again. “Sergeant Korav? Bring Captain Torvek and Druid Zanthe to my office. We’re having an emergency meeting.” She said grimly.

* * *

 

            The door hissed shut behind him. He could be discovered for this. He could be _killed_ for this. The likeliest outcome was being shunted off to the nearest slave camp for the rest of his natural years. Ulaz walked on, two luxite blades heavy. Several questions even heavier. Ever since the blackout, the station’s inhabitants had been uneasy. Every other maintenance panel was being manned by technicians of various ranks, tripping up the pre-programmed sentrys left and right. Officers and soldiers and scientists alike walked about the gunmetal hallways in flocks, nervously looking over each other’s shoulder. From what Ulaz could remember, it had been years since a malfunction on this scale had happened. He walked on. Taking the short one from the group now would be an exercise in futility. The whole station was long-past riled up and, on the look-out for anyone suspicious. Instead, he took several complicated turns down the dark walkways of the staff section. Ulaz had arrived.

 

            The sentry terminal. Ulaz pressed a hand against the scanner, watching with a mask of disinterest as the mechanical door slid open. A secretary startled at that, straightening in her seat.

“Vrepit Sa,—” the Private squinted at the identifications on his uniform,” – Major! How can I help you?” Ulaz set Varen’s personal ID chip on the desk.

“I have direct orders for a high-level sentry.” The Private snatched up the chip with a gusto, filling the air with ‘Right-away-Sir!’s and ‘Just-a-moment-Sir!’s, as she hurried to the back of the room. It wasn’t unlike watching a kit rush to help in the kitchen. Ulaz quickly twisted to read the Private’s monitor, taking note of how the sentry number had changed since Captain Torvek consolidated their numbers. 235 unspecialized drones. _‘This might be harder than I originally figured…’_ Ulaz straightened up just in time. The Private whirled in, a class-A3 sentry strutting behind her. She handed him the ID chip with flourish and stepped back behind her desk.

“Here you are Sir! Sorry for the wait, would you like me to comm the Commander and let her—” Ulaz held up a hand to stop her.

“No need.” He replied curtly. Ulaz turned on heel and the sentry was quick to follow. In the time between here and arriving at the specimen’s cell, he needed to formulate a plan to secret him out of here. The hallways blurred in his memory. _‘It needs to be fast.’_ He thought. The large white doors into the holding wing were just 5 dobashes away. His claws tapped against his side. ‘ _The hangar needs to be empty and free…_ ’ the guards at the door saluted him as he pasted. It wasn’t that he was a higher rank of course, he wasn’t, but the class of sentry behind him denoted something important was afoot. As he passed them, his eyes squeezed shut. The light was near blinding. What he needed was a fight, ‘ _But who’d attack a backwater station like this one?_ ’

 

            Ulaz watched the cells as he walked passed, distinctly aware of how unfamiliar he was with the area. The wide hallways were buzzing with activity, soldiers and sentries taking a roll call of every prisoner, technicians checking the access history of the scanners. As the cold white corridors narrowed they were so choked up that Ulaz had to shove passed everyone else just to get through. He arrived in the quarantine sector. The second knife was biting into his thigh. Without an accomplice starting a space battle, fake or otherwise, as impossible. Ulaz was almost halfway down the winding labyrinth, the metal feet of the sentry echoing down the rest of its length. He had been expecting more than a handful of hover drones down this way.

For the second time that day, Quarantine Vault 6KY’s doors slid open with a grating hiss. The sentry strode forward and presented a pair of shackles. Ulaz stayed behind, inspecting the grooves along the walls. Counting time. A few dobashes later, the bulky sentry returned. Clasped in its robotic arm was a squirming human, yelling and shouting and flailing its legs.

“Let. Me. Go!” it howled. Ulaz crinkled his brow at the racket and bared his fangs. The sentry dropped it to its feet, were it crumple to the floor, absolute dead weight.

“We need to leave.” Ulaz ordered coldly. The human hesitated for a moment, sitting up. Its eyes darted between him and the sentry. The human was getting up slowly, swaying without much balance and Ulaz moved to help it, when. It shot to its feet. Spun on heel. Its foot dug into the cold floor. It ran past the sentry. Ten paces away the sentry fired its arm cannon just barely ahead of it, making the human stop.

“996-RV7. You are unwell. Follow me.” The human wouldn’t move, but the sentry didn’t care. On a gesture from Ulaz, the hulking droid strode over and grabbed it by the scruff like an unruly kit. Ulaz turned away to lead them out.

“Where are you taking me?” Ulaz kept moving at a brisk pace.

“A specialized containment unit.”

“I was already in a quarantine.”

“You’re going in a different one.”

The human swung its feet back behind him to kick the sentry holding him. The sentry held him farther away.

“Why.” It demanded. Ulaz ignored it, favoring instead to step to the side of the hallway, saluting a higher officer passing by. The office saluted him back, eyeing his cargo with something between pity and distaste. Ulaz eyed the long trail of sentries and soldiers he was taking into the quarantine, hiding something between surprise and suspicion. The human actual stop trashing for once. After that, they were back in the wide hallway, still filled to the brim. What had been a quiet babbling stream of conversation turned into a roar of gossip and deca-pheob stale stories. Ulaz turn to check on the human, and found it practically drowning in the sudden stimuli. Its head swung around to absorb it all, its ears swimming in snippets of debates and discussions too technical to understand. Something about it tugged on something in Ulaz’s heart, remind him of old dusty memories. He turned around again and kept walking. Distractions couldn’t be afforded. It took maybe half a varga just to get to where they were going and in the space of not even five ticks the human had started up its questions again.

Questions like, “Are we there yet?” and, “What’s going to happen to my friends?” and, “Why are you separating me?”

And its questions were met with answers like, “No.” and, “I don’t know.” and, “Be quiet, 996-RV7.”

By the tenth rendition of, “Are we there yet.” _(Only five dobashes since the last one and literally two! Damn! Steps from the damn door!!)_ Ulaz no longer felt any of his previous hints of fondness.

He whipped around and gave the small human a nasty glare, “ _Yes,_ 996-RV7 we are _here._ Now _, Shut up!_” Ulaz pressed the entry button with more force than necessary, watching sternly as the bulky sentry shuffled past him, the human watched him with wide, wary eyes. Ulaz took a dobash to collect himself, drumming his claws against the white metal of the wall. He needed a plan, and quickly. ‘ _I obviously can’t orchestrate a battle on my own_ ,’ He could hear the heavy-footed sentry drop the human and loudly hobble out of the quarantine. ‘ _but maybe I don’t have to_.’ Suddenly Ulaz straightened up and held out a hand to pause the sentry.

“Before you power down,” Ulaz commanded, ”send the Private my thanks, for the help.” A light flickered on the sentry’s face, where an eye might be. It beeped a tune in response and went back on its way. Ulaz watched it leave, face blank yet nervous nevertheless.

 

          Objectively, his mission was simple. His role in the Blade was an informant first, and as a possible sleeper agent second. Every few deca-pheobs he composed a minimalist data report, with only the most important of information included in their entirety. All reports were run through fifteen rotated cyphers and then digitally encrypted into a meaningless string of code. He was supposed to keep his head down and work just as well as any other loyal galra soldier. Subjectively, one could say that Ulaz had a knack for making it that much more complicated. Doing things like, _I don’t know_ , wiping records of missing subjects, or tampering with the internal map of the station so it didn’t include boarded-off areas. His ears flicked subconsciously at how mad Kolivan had been to hear that.

_“You’re going to get yourself killed.”_ He had said.

Yet Ulaz walked into the quarantine were the sentry had left the human in anyway. He looked up, somewhat startled, perhaps because the room was far nicer and a lot less confined, or perhaps because he hadn’t expected the door to open again. It didn’t really matter. Ulaz gesture to the plush seating off at the far side of the room with one hand and locked the door behind him with another.

“Make yourself comfortable, 996-RV7.” He took his own offer and sat in a chair. The human didn’t budge, but Ulaz didn’t wait for him either.

“These quarantine rooms were originally designed for staff members who were exposed to too much concentrated quintessence. As the station itself expanded, however, these room came to be trapped in the middle of the Subject Containment wing of the building and fell into misused. That is to say: sitting in a chair like a civil creature won’t hurt you.”

He pulled up a holoscreen from a switch in the chair and absentmindedly navigated his way to 996-RV7’s medical records. 996-RV7 himself, was slow to take up his offer but still found himself in the embrace of the soft armchair adjacent to Ulaz.

Curled against his own knees, the human asked, “Why’d you bring me here?”

Ulaz tapped at the holoscreen’s side. The light was out on the ancient security camera in the corner.  He narrowed his eyes and turned back to the human.

“Officially, because you, subject 996-RV7, are scanning dangerously high levels of quintessence poisoning.”

The human furrowed his brow, “Quintessence?”

“Fuel source. Unimportant right now.”

“Wait, you just sai—”

“Personally, because you have _this_.” Ulaz pulled out the small luxite blade, and the human lunged for it immediately, “My knife!” he cried. Ulaz held it out of his reach. Pushed him back with a large hand. The human kicked his shin, kicked him hard. The pain of it had Ulaz flinch hard enough that the human shoved Ulaz’s hand out of the way and grabbed the knife as well.

“It’s mine!” 996-RV7 yelled, “Give it back!” Quick to recover, Ulaz shoved him back into the chair with prejudice.

“—Because there’s no way, _in all of the universe_ , that some _backwater_ , _uncontacted_ , **_barely-spacefaring_ ** species on a _death planet_ _in-the-middle-of-fucking-nowhere_ —got _this_ knife. Do you hear me?” Ulaz demanded. The human shifted in his seat, pinned by Ulaz’s foot. Ulaz leaned forward eyes narrowing. He had to swallow hard to even swallow at all. He didn’t like yelling like this—‘ _He’s practically a child_ ’ his mind supplied to him—but he owed her this. Owed it to all of them. They needed to know. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves.

“Let’s start over,” he began again–softer–, “How did you get the knife.” The little human was tiny against the chair. His stomach churned uncomfortably. He checked the camera again. It was still off. He still had time. Hopefully. The ticks were starting to drag on.

“Well?” Ulaz prompted. 996-RV7’s eyes darted between him and the knife before he replied.

“Do I get it back?” That raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not even yours.”

“Yes, it is!” he snapped back, glaring. “My dad gave it to me—I’ve had it practically my whole life!”

“And that somehow makes stolen property yours?” Ulaz shot back.

“What makes you think it’s stolen?” The human was getting angrier by the moment, but so was Ulaz. ‘ _Disrespecting a fallen Blade!_ ’ He fumed. Nevertheless.

“Because,” Ulaz stressed his words heavily, like he was talking to an especially stupid small child. He pressed a button on his own chair and restraints shot out of 996-RV7’s, holding the human tight. The blade came closer to the subject, almost close enough to fog up the metal with his breath. “I knew the woman who used to own it, kit.” The human had no response to that. The camera was still off, but Ulaz didn’t find that important anymore. It was clear the human didn’t have the answers he needed, or at least, Ulaz didn’t have the ability to pry them from him, not yet. With that information, he put the blade back into his belt and got back to work. The human was fatally poisoned after all, and it’s not like it was going away on its own. He tried to ignore how heavy the second knife at his hip was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, folks. Homework is a cruel creature. Also, I know that juggling OC names and identities is a bit of a chore, especially if you're a big reader, so question for y'all reading: Would you want a brief list of characters in the notes so you can refresh you memory, and if so, at the end or in the beginning notes?

**Author's Note:**

> Deca-Pheob = Year  
> Pheob = Month  
> Spicolian Movement = Week  
> Quintant = Day  
> Varga = Hour  
> Dobash = Minute  
> Tick = Second


End file.
